


All Tangled Up

by Melodious329



Series: Teenage Drama [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-18
Updated: 2011-04-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the two boys are together but in two different but nearby schools. Unfortunately the course of true love never did run smooth…</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Tangled Up

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is loving the challenge of college while Dean struggles being away from home. In this one I wanted to more fully explore John and Dean's relationship and how it has affected Dean for the rest of his life. Some of you are going to be pissed because I still didn't make Sam the perfect boyfriend, but hopefully y'all will think that at least his reactions are realistic for someone in his predicament.
> 
> Again I'm trying to incorporate and mirror aspects of the show in this AU

Dean changes quickly in the locker room after football practice. He doesn't even bother with a shower. Being an openly gay player at college has been mostly fine, but he doesn't want to push his luck if he can just shower at his dorm.

He turns to get his pads off the bench behind him and finds his face abruptly meeting the open door of his locker. Spinning around, Dean is unsurprised to see it was Dustin who pushed him. The guy is one of the exceptions to his 'mostly fine' experience.

"Keep your eyes to yourself, faggot," the other boy harshly whispers.

Dean grits his teeth to keep his mouth shut. There's no point in starting anything. In a large group of testosterone charged boys barely out of high school, there's bound to be a couple of bigots. Besides Coach already gave the team the 'don't pick on the queer speech' and Dean doesn't want to seem like a pansy who can't handle himself.

Things at college in general haven't been great. Technically, school has been going on for a month, but Dean had to be there a month early for football camp. He loves football but the pressure of college sports has been intense. Everyone at college was the star of their high school team. Its enough to make Dean nostalgic for his dad's training techniques…

Being homesick is another of Dean's problems with college life. He still hasn't heard anything from his dad, he doesn't even know if John is still in rehab because of the whole patient confidentiality thing.

It's strange. Dean's the one who left home but he feels…abandoned. He's always had someone to take care of. Even when he went to live with Bobby, he felt useful. He hadn't known about Bobby's wife until after he got out of the hospital, but it made Dean feel like he was more than just an uninvited houseguest.

And he helped Bobby. It wasn't like Dean is a clean freak by any stretch of the imagination but he cooks better than Bobby does, and they did the dishes together and fixed up cars in the yard together. Bobby had always gone to all of his games and now…now there was nobody to watch or care.

Dean didn't even get to play in the games yet. Their quarterback was a senior and the coach was still starting him, which Dean could appreciate, he would want to play his senior year, but…Dean just felt useless.

He hurried up the stairs to his third floor single. Not many students wanted to room with the sports teams since they had to be up early, but it was another thing that made Dean feel alone in his new life.

And then there was Sam, the reason, he was hurrying so much. In the past two months, Dean had seen Sam only two other times. He knew that Sam couldn't come all the way down there while Dean was at football camp, players weren't even allowed to have guests, but he still felt like they were barely dating anymore.

Sure they spoke on the phone, just like he did with Bobby, but it wasn't the same. And Sam was so excited about school, Dean didn't want to complain, didn't want to be such a downer that Sam dumped his sorry ass. It wasn't even like there was anything wrong, not like getting beaten daily…

Dean snorted at his own humorless joke as he threw his duffle in the back seat of his car. The car was a graduation gift from Bobby, a 1967 Chevy Impala. The car had once belonged to John, but sold to Bobby after John had his license taken away. Not that that stopped John from driving but apparently John didn't want to hurt a classic car.

Driving the _ distance to Duke was soothing to Dean and by the time, he was walking to Sam's first floor double, Dean was happily imagining the weekend ahead. He pictured Sam's big dimpled grin, Sam's deep breathless laugh, he looked forward to laughing and smiling and talking and touching and, yes, having sex. Dean's cock gave a hopeful twitch in his boxer-briefs at that suggestion, but it would have to wait as Dean opened Sam's door to discover it was empty.

Sam knew that he was coming tonight. Dean dialed Sam's cell on his own phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Shrugging and assuming Sam just got caught up with something, Dean dropped his duffel on Sam's side of the room. He had to scrounge in Sam's drawer for a sock to hang on the doorknob because Sam was a neat freak who didn't leave them on the floor. The sock was cliché but it did alert Sam's roommate, Phil to Dean's presence.

Sam had taken his computer with him wherever he was and the books on the shelves were all school related so there wasn't a whole lot for Dean to do. After investigating the room's contents for a few more minutes, Dean decided to go ahead and strip off his clothes and climb into Sam's bed. Surely Sam would be there any minute…

Four hours later, Sam was hurrying back to his room. He knew that Dean had probably been there for a while, but he had been doing some group work in the library. He hadn't meant to be that late, but he and Sarah had been arguing over whether reptiles engaged in play behavior and thus should be included in their presentation and time had just gotten away from him.

Now it was one o'clock in the morning and Sam was dead tired. He had an eight am class every morning and it seemed like he was up late every night. College was great, meeting new people and learning new things with professors and students who actually cared, but the work was intense.

Opening the door to his room, Sam mused that he wasn't the only one worn out. Dean was sprawled on his stomach on Sam's bed. Sam tried to be quiet but gave up when Dean rolled over to his back and opened his eyes.

Dean watched Sam get undressed, putting his dirty clothes in the hamper like a good boy. A glance at the clock on the bedside table almost made Dean groan but he didn't want to sound like a clingy girlfriend so he bit it back.

Sam flopped into bed on his back, wanting nothing more in that moment than to curl around Dean in the too small bed and sleep.

Immediately Dean pressed against Sam's side, not caring as his sleep-warm skin came into contact with Sam's chilled from the night air. Dean kissed Sam's jaw and the corner of his boyfriend's lips, determined not to worry that Sam was late or that Sam didn't call or anything. Sam was here now and Dean wanted to take advantage of that fact.

Running his hands over Sam's torso, Dean only thought about how Sam had physically changed since their first meeting. Even before they left for college Sam had begun filling out, fulfilling the promise of his broad shoulders and huge hands, but it seemed that Sam had discovered the gym at college and Dean traced the curves of new muscles in his once gangly boyfriend's abdomen.

Dean's hand was just reaching the waist of Sam's boxers when Sam suddenly spoke, turning his face towards Dean.

"Dean, could we just…you know, like a quickie," Sam asked, hesitance and embarrassment evident in every word.

For a moment Dean didn't respond at all, the words getting lost somewhere in his brain.

Then all of Dean's breath whooshed out with his response. "Yeah," he said, trying not to let his disappointment show.

He turned onto his stomach, sliding his boxers off, aware of the air on his bare skin as he listened to Sam get out the lube and a condom. The first touch Dean felt was a light tap to his right thigh, a signal to spread his legs.

Sam settled himself between Dean's spread thighs, as always in awe at the sight of Dean naked beneath him: the ridges and valleys of Dean's muscled back, the roundness of Dean's ass, Dean's flexibility that always seemed to welcome and hold Sam. Dean's face was turned sideways on Sam's pillow and the shadows seemed to nestle in the hollow under Dean's cheek bone.

Dean almost squirmed away at the first slimy touch to his entrance, but then Sam was rubbing the clenched muscle just the way Dean loved and by the time that he was being stretched by a single finger, Dean was fully aroused and pressing back to get the digit deeper.

He could feel Sam behind him, the back of his thighs bumping into the front of Sam's, Sam's left hand gripping his hip, but he wanted more, more than the feel of his own sweat running down his exposed back, more than the feel of rumpled sheets brushing his erect cock and sensitive nipples.

But then Sam was pressing inside and all Dean could feel was the burn of that stretch, the long slow burn of someone who was intimately aware of the limits of Dean's body. Dean's focus narrowed to the grip of Sam's huge hands on his hips and the length driving into his prostate, the points of contact between Sam and himself.

Sam snapped his hips, driving hard and deep into Dean immediately, wanting to cum, wanting Dean writhing and crying out. It didn't take long for Sam to get both of his wishes.

He watched the flex of Dean's bicep as the other teen worked his own sex, slowing his thrusts until Dean stiffened and groaned before speeding up in a race to his own climax. Sam ground his pelvis against Dean's ass as he rode out the last of the shockwaves before he was pulling out and getting up.

Dean didn't even move as the bed shifted with the removal of Sam's weight. He was exhausted after his orgasm, mentally, emotionally, physically. He let Sam turn him onto his side as the larger teen spooned behind, one of the few ways two big guys could sleep in a tiny single. They were both asleep within minutes.

Dean awoke the next morning to the most obnoxious sound in the world, the alarm clock. Wasn't it the weekend? There had to be some mistake.

Apparently not as Sam was getting up and rummaging through his drawers.

Sitting up, the fabric of Sam's blue striped sheets pooling around his waist, Dean rubbed his eyes with a fist as he asked in a gruff voice, "Where're you going?"

Sam looked sheepish as he turned toward Dean in the midst of pulling on a clean t-shirt. "Meet with my chem lab partner. It's not due til Friday but I wanted to get it out of the way and he has to meet with another group later and I kinda wanted to work on my Women's Lit paper afterwards so…"

Dean waved a hand to cut Sam off, knowing that the other teen could talk about schoolwork forever. "If you're gonna be busy all day, I'm just gonna head back." And no that was not a clingy girlfriend thing to say, Dean told himself.

Sam did have the decency to look remorseful for a second. "Sure, I understand that. Sorry, but you know I don't like to be behind…"

Dean smiled, a smile that Sam could tell was fake. He knew that Dean was upset but he'd make it up to Dean as soon as he had a break in work, Sam told himself.

Sam left with his backpack and his toothbrush, leaving Dean on the bed feeling alone and naked in a way that had nothing to do with the empty room or the fact that Dean wasn't wearing anything beneath the sheet.

************************************

Dean spent the drive back to his own dorm, thinking. He wasn't upset, he wasn't. What was there to be upset about?

He certainly wasn't upset that Sam had wanted a quickie. He was a guy, he loved quickies. He had enjoyed quick sex with Sam lots of times when they both just needed to get off.

But last night it just…wasn't what Dean had wanted.

And he certainly couldn't be upset that Sam was busy. It wasn't Sam's fault that he was super smart and had lots of work and probably everyone wanted to study with him…

But the truth was that Dean was upset. He had wanted to spend time with Sam, to feel connected to his boyfriend again. He certainly hadn't wanted to be driving back to his own dorm less than 24 hours later.

But of course he couldn't tell Sam that he was upset. Sam didn't want a whiny bitch for a boyfriend. Sam fell in love with a confident, popular football star and Dean had to continue to be that guy no matter how miserable he really was. It was bad enough that Sam had seen him at the hospital, that Sam had seen him before, after his dad had…It was a miracle that Sam still wanted anything to do with him and Dean wouldn't do anything to push the other boy away.

There were few other students about early on a Saturday morning, so it was surprising that Sam bumped right into a friend as he walked to the library. Jess was his best friend since high school and they had gone to Duke together.

"Hey, what're you doing up?" Sam asked. Jess wasn't exactly known as a morning person.

"Ughh," she groaned. "I've got a paper due Monday."

Her eyes narrowed in concentration as she looked him over and Sam suddenly felt like he should have taken a shower after last night. He just hadn't had time, wanting to spend every extra second in the bed with Dean. But Jess seemed to know exactly what he had been up to.

"Hey, isn't your ridiculously hot boyfriend coming into town this weekend?"

Sam blushed. Dean had definitely been ridiculously hot last night…he coughed. "Yeah, he was here last night."

"So where is he? And why, or how, are you up so early?" Jess continued.

"Oh, I had a lot of work to get done today, so he went ahead back to school."

Sam knew that Jess wasn't going to like that answer and he scratched the back of his neck in consternation waiting for her to speak.

"You sent him away?"

"No, he was the one who suggested that he leave," Sam tried.

"You couldn't take one day off?"

"Well I could, but…"

"Sam."

It was the disappointment in Jess's voice that made Sam shut up. "He drove all the way up here only to turn around because you were busy. If you want it to work with Dean, you have to try."

"But he didn't say anything…"

"Just because Dean's not with his dad any more, doesn't mean that everything's honky-dory for him. He's fragile."

Sam laughed humorlessly, Jess's words hitting their mark. "Don't tell him that."

"I'm serious, Sam. He loves you and if you love him, you need to show him."

Sam nodded, showing that he understood what she was saying. They parted with a hug, Jess smiling to soften the blow of her words. Sam kept his head down as he continued walking to meet his lab partner. He had already felt a little guilty this morning, sensing Dean's disappointment.

He didn't mean to neglect his boyfriend, and it wasn't that he didn't want to spend time with Dean…School was just so new and exciting. Sam guessed that he had gotten a little carried away.

He just felt like Dean would always be there for him. It was only now that Sam realized how arrogant that sounded, how manipulative of Dean's loyalty. And Sam should definitely have known that Dean wouldn't necessarily tell him if the other teen were upset. Dean had been quieter lately, subdued somehow.

Yeah, Sam had a lot to make up for this weekend.

It was a long weekend for Dean which turned into a long week. Dean had taken out some of his frustrations in exercising, going on a long run on some secluded trails he had found in the Appalachian mountains a short drive away. The trails were just the type that his father would have made him run.

Dean had spoken to Sam on the phone twice. Sam seemed fine, not at all bothered by Dean's sudden exit, yabbering on about schoolwork as much as ever. Sam asked about his classes, but Dean didn't have a whole lot to say. He was taking the normal, boring freshman classes: Intro Chem, Writing Seminar, History of the Roman Empire…Nothing to get excited about. Or at least nothing that excited him.

Dean sighed as he made his way back to his dorm after morning practice. He had one afternoon class before the weekend and then all he wanted to do was sleep, and possibly never wake up.

He opened the door to his room, not bothering with the key; he never locked it, but was frozen at the sight that awaited him inside. John was sitting solemnly on his bed, reading his history text.

"Dad?"

Dean's choked voice revealed the suppressed nature of his jumbled feelings towards his long absent father: pain, confusion, hope, fear. He had lived in fear of John for as long as he could remember, but Dean feared more his father's reprimands, his father's disappointment more than John's backhand.

Eventually his happiness to see his father won out and Dean stepped forward into the room. He was happy to see his father, happy that his father was alright and cared enough to come find Dean.

John slowly stood as Dean came near, looking awkward and out of place. Dean's face showed apprehension, emotions running after each other across his son's features, and John had never before felt like he had intruded on his son's life

"How did you get in here?" Dean asked. He was fairly certain Bobby would have told him if John had called asking about Dean's whereabouts.

"Pretty easily actually, since I am your father."

Dean nodded, dropping his eyes to the floor. John had never been much of a father and that fact hung in the air between them.

"So, you finished the rehab program?"

John's pinched, pained face told Dean the answer. The fact that John dropped out of rehab was not surprising, but that John seemed ashamed by the fact was.

"So why did you come here?"

"I came to see you."

Dean didn't have a clue what to say to that. Since he was four years old, he had wanted nothing but this man's, his father's attention. For his father, Dean had made sure that he had been faster, stronger, better than all of the other boys. He had trained when other little boys were still playing with their G.I. Joe's. He had endured beatings and being berated, all for the slim possibility that John would have one nice thing to say, that his father would be proud of him, that Dean could feel loved even for a minute.

John had disappeared while Dean had been in the hospital and now here he was, acting like nothing was wrong and suddenly Dean was angry. He was angry that his father would show up now when everything seemed to be falling apart, as if John were saying 'I told you so'.

"Are you kidding? What do you care about your useless and pathetic son?"

John seemed rightfully surprised. Dean had never talked back to him, certainly never shouted at him and John couldn't contain his own temper from rising to the challenge. He had spent too many years taking out his anger and pain on his son to suddenly be able to walk away.

"Don't you talk to me like that! I'm your father. Without me, you wouldn't even have made it into college."

"How do you figure?"

"You think you got in here on your brains? You were an uncoordinated and lazy little boy that I made into an athlete!"

"You almost killed me!"

The backhand across his face shouldn't have surprised Dean but it did. It had been a while since he had been hit. And the blow was hard, just like Dean remembered, pain blossoming across his cheek.

Dean stared at the ground, refusing to look up into John's face and see the anger and disgust he had seen so many times before.

The truth hurt them both. It was the first time that Dean himself had acknowledged what John had done to him.

But nothing compared to the surprise that Dean felt when John drew him into a tight hug, both still breathing hard with emotion.

"I didn't mean to," John whispered. Even as he said the words, the elder man knew that it didn't matter whether he had meant to. He had hit his son, he had beaten Dean repeatedly and half to death.

He had spent a month in rehab coming to terms with that fact, until the guilt drove him back to the bottle. From there it was a cycle of trying to get sober and falling back off the wagon. And then he decided he needed to see his son.

He remembered how happy, how excited he had been when Dean was born, how perfect he had thought the infant was. John couldn't begin to imagine what Mary would think of what he had turned into.

"When your mother died, I couldn't…I couldn't cope. You were so small and you needed me and I couldn't be there for you."

John inhaled a shaky breath, loosening his grip on the teen so that he was no longer crushing Dean.

"Maybe I wanted to push you away. You're so like your mother, you know. And then when you wanted to play sports, I thought, this I could do. I knew sports, I could make you the best…

But by then I was so lost in the bottle, so full of grief and anger. I took it out on you and I used sports as an excuse."

And he had only been in the room with Dean for five minutes and John had already hit the boy again. At this point he didn't know how to deal with his emotions any other way.

Sometimes he was so angry at Mary, as ridiculous as that sounded. He was angry at her for leaving him, leaving this precious little boy. Sometimes he struck out at Dean because he was a part of her and sometimes he was angry at Dean for being a reminder of the perfect life that John once had. But most of the time the boy was just convenient.

John allowed Dean to step back, feeling surprisingly disappointed at the loss of contact.

"It's ok, Dad."

John's smile was more of a grimace. "You used to say the same thing to me when you were a kid, you know, and it wasn't any more true then than it is now."

Dean was silent again and John nodded mostly to himself as he strode past his son towards the door.

"I'm gonna be around for a few days…I'll come back by." John said it as more of a question and Dean answered with a teenager's typical "Yeah, sure."

*****************************************

Sam borrowed Jess's car and drove down to Chapel Hill on Friday. He had memorized Dean's class schedule and knew that Dean didn't get out til four.

He had a surprise planned. Ok, so it wasn't the most romantic setup ever, but it was the thought that counted. And fortunately for Sam, Dean was easy to please.

The first problem was that it would still be light out by the time that Dean came in. Secondly, candles weren't allowed in the dorm. So Sam pulled the shades, and picked up Dean's dirty clothes. He had bought a projector that would put stars on the ceiling and, of course, a red rose now lying on the bed.

Dean walked into his dorm room that afternoon to discover an unexpected guest inside for the second time that day.

Course the sight of Sam sitting on his bed was a slightly happier surprise for Dean and he couldn't have stopped the joyful smile that spread across his face and alighted in his eyes. Dean would forgive Sam anything. Always.

That Sam seemed to be similarly delighted to see him only made the moment sweeter as Sam stood and moved immediately into Dean's space. Dean was so ecstatic he missed when the frown began to darken his boyfriend's face.

"Sam, what're you…?"

Dean never got to finish that sentence as Sam's hand extended to touch his bruised cheek. Dean's own smile faltered for just a second before he plastered it back on.

Pulling his face just slightly out of the warmth of Sam's touch, Dean answered the question that Sam hadn't asked yet.

"I ran into my open locker. Stupid. But what are you doing here?"

The diversion worked as the smile and excitement came back into Sam's face.

"I came down to surprise you."

"But you know I have a game tomorrow night. It's too late for you to get tickets…"

Sam just shrugged. "I'll find some way to amuse myself."

Sam's words hung in the air between them. They both knew it was an apology for the weekend previous, but neither wanted to actually say it.

"Hey," Sam abruptly exclaimed and grabbed for Dean's hand. "Since we can't have candles I found this projector thing…"

Sam turned it on, even though the stars were barely visible with the sun still streaming through the curtains. Dean's smile had returned as well as he swept his eyes across the room.

"You cleaned my room?"

Sam looked caught and embarrassed. "Just picked up a few things…"

Dean smiled, laughing a little even as he pulled Sam close and their lips met. It took a moment for the kiss to really get started, for a long moment it was just smiling against each others' lips and feeling the closeness as they pressed their bodies together.

But then Dean's tongue was tracing Sam's lips before licking inside. Sam moaned as one hand clutched at the back of Dean's head, wanting to keep Dean there so he could continue kissing the other boy.

It was apparently the signal that Dean had been waiting for as his kisses became more passionate. He pushed harder against Sam who stumbled back into the bureau behind him. It seemed as if Dean were trying to get closer than physically possible and so Sam decided to take the initiative to start removing their clothes.

Dean was absolutely no help as Sam pulled on the hem of the shorter teen's shirt. He was seemingly determined to stay pressed against Sam with a desperation that Sam hadn't been expecting. Perhaps Jess had been right.

After much finagling Sam managed to get both of their shirts off and the feel of Dean's skin against his own sent Sam's own desperation sky-rocketing. Dean's arms were around Sam in a semi-hug, holding them together as Sam's hands skimmed over the soft, smooth skin of Dean's back. His hands slipped down to Dean's tapered waist and over the waist of the jeans. Sam couldn't resist squeezing Dean's ass and lifting up to pull Dean's crotch against his own.

Dean groaned, his head falling back and his grip on Sam loosening. Sam took advantage not only of the exposed length of Dean's neck, but also of the tiny space between them to unbutton and pull off both of their pants.

Dean was smiling again as Sam pushed him onto the bed and pulled off his boyfriend's boxers. Standing, Sam gave a little show as he lowered his own boxers, turning around to pull them slowly down the curve of his ass as he looked over his shoulder at Dean and pursed his lips.

They both couldn't help laughing. Sam thought in that moment, Dean lying on the bed naked and holding the slightly crushed red rose, laughing full and deep with a smile that stretched Dean's cheeks, that Dean had never been as beautiful.

Finally dropping his own boxers to the floor, Sam crawled over Dean, the laughter quieting but the smiles remaining as he did so. Sam thought the only thing that marred that moment was the bruise across Dean's right cheek. It reminded Sam of other bruises, visible marks on skin that reflected the pain in Dean's eyes.

Sam took the rose from Dean's hand and trailed it over Dean's chest before asking Dean to turn over. He didn't miss the look of disappointment that passed over Dean's face before the smaller man complied.

Sam had plans, but he took a moment to just cover Dean's body with his own, holding the other teen close and pressing chaste but intimate kisses into Dean's neck. Slowly, Sam trailed those kisses down Dean's back. Dean had already opened his thighs to make room for Sam between them.

Spreading Dean's thighs further, his big hands looking dark against Dean's pale skin and blonde downy hair, Sam continued his kisses right down between the round cheeks. He could hear Dean's breath stop long before Sam was ghosting his breath over Dean's entrance.

Dean held perfectly still as he felt Sam's hands holding him open and that first soft, wet swipe across his entrance. This was something they had never done and he didn't know what to do with himself.

Sam rearranged himself more comfortably, sliding his arms under Dean's thighs and pulling Dean's hips up. Dean grabbed onto his pillow as he was arranged, wanting to stifle the moans he knew he'd be making if Sam continued.

Knowing Dean was drowning in anticipation, Sam drew it out, playfully nipping one round globe of Dean's muscular behind. Dean jerked, unconsciously pressing back into Sam's face.

"Fuck, Sam!"

Sam had to hold in his chuckle, he knew Dean loved it.

Sam rubbed the flat of his tongue over the ridged ring as Dean began to squirm in his grasp, the pillow not quite muffling the needy whimpering cries.

Stopping to remoisten his tongue, Sam couldn't help asking, "You like that?"

"Fuck, yeah…Don't stop, Sammy."

Sam had no intention of stopping. As he continued, Dean's movements became more rhythmic, his hips rolling in an imitation of having sex, his heavy erection swinging free between his legs.

Sharpening his tongue, Sam stabbed at the hole, forcing a tiny bit inside. He licked, kissed, and sucked at the tiny hole, relishing the almost pained sounds that Dean made as he did so.

"Unh…mmmhuh, deeper," Dean buried the rest of his sounds in the pillow.

Sam didn't hesitate in obeying that order and inserted a finger, continuing to lick around the opening as he massaged Dean's prostate. He had to momentarily pull away to grab the lube, before pushing two in.

"Turn over."

Dean was panting hard as he complied, his mouth open, his lips shiny red and wet, his muscular chest heaving. Sam didn't think he'd ever seen Dean looking so debauched as he leaned over to take the other teen's lips in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

Dean's hands clutched at Sam's back, his short nails digging in and leaving lines of red that caused Sam to arch, pushing his groin into Dean's own. As their lips parted, Dean was still breathing too hard to do more than mouth over the skin of Sam's collarbone.

"Come on, Sam," Dean's words were a harsh whisper against the heated skin of Sam's shoulder.

Sam had to pull back to comply, but Dean couldn't seem to let go completely. His hands slid down Sam's arms from his back, his left hand slipping down to Sam's thigh as Sam prepared his own cock with a condom and lube.

Sam lifted Dean's leg over his shoulder. Not for the first time Sam was thankful for Dean's flexibility that allowed him to lean down over Dean as he pressed inside. He wanted to keep that connection that Dean seemed to need, wanted to reassure the other teen with his whole body if need be.

And Dean arched up, pulled Sam into him with the heel of his other foot and onto him with a hand to the back of Sam's neck. Sam's thrusts were shallow at this angle, but the feel of Dean's sweaty chest as he writhed under the larger teen made up for it.

Eventually though, he had to pull back. Dean was begging for harder and deeper, thrusting his hips up. Sam lifted himself on one hand placed beside Dean's head, the other under Dean's lower back, helping the other teen keep his hips up.

Still, this way he could see Dean's face, watch as Dean was seemingly buffeted by his thrusts, as Dean's face contorted with pleasure that looked like a grimace, watch as each throaty moan and tiny cry forced its way past full lips. He could look into Dean's eyes, eyes that seemed surprised and pleased at each forceful thrust, that seemed riveted to Sam's own, eyes that eventually closed as the blonde tossed his head back.

Dean had one arm on the bed, steadying himself but the other ran over Sam's face, grasped his shoulder and occasionally dipped down Sam's chest to toy with a perky nipple. When that hand ultimately dropped down to stroke at his own erection, Sam's eyes followed, jumping like a tennis match between Dean's hand and his boyfriend's face.

It was only after Dean came with a soundless cry, painting his own belly, and Sam's with a drop or two, that Sam let himself go, his thrusts becoming short and hard. Dean kept his hips lifted and they both collapsed when Sam was spent.

The bed was tiny and sticky, and so were they, but when Sam rolled back over from throwing the condom away, they snuggled up with smiles on their sleepy faces.

They napped and took separate showers and ate dinner in the cafeteria and fooled around again. They went to sleep that night watching the stars swirl on the ceiling, Dean practically lying on top of Sam so that they would fit.

Sam woke the next morning feeling good. Sam was happy. And Dean was happy which made Sam happier. He pulled his leg up from where it was hanging half off the bed and curled tighter around his boyfriend, Dean making incomprehensible but vaguely displeased noises.

He was just settling his head on Dean's shoulder when there was someone barging into the room.

"Dean, I thought…"

John? What was Dean's father doing in his college dorm room? Dean hadn't even heard from the man in months.

Both boys stiffened in bed, the sound of his father's voice immediately waking Dean.

Thankfully and much to Sam's surprise, John averted his face from the scene of the two teens in bed. They both jumped at the opportunity to slide their boxers under the sheets and get up to pull their pants and shirts back on.

Sam's head was spinning. He had frankly expected John to freak out and attack them for being in bed together.

Stunned into speechlessness, Sam only watched as Dean moved forward towards his father.

"Dad," it was half a statement half a question. "What're you doing back here?"

John turned back to look at his son, seeming uncomfortable, his face tight. "Thought we could go out to breakfast. Sam can join us."

John's eyes flicked over to Sam as the taller teen approached. Sam was flabbergasted at the invitation. The last time he had seen the man had been when John had just put Dean in the hospital and now John wanted them to go out for pancakes, to pretend that everything was great and he didn't abuse his son!

Sam's eyes flicked from John's melancholy dark eyes to Dean's guilty expression and it was like the proverbial light bulb going on over his head.

"He did that?" Sam pointed to Dean's cheek. "He hit you? Again? And you're just letting him stand there?"

Sam was becoming increasing angry. When Dean was angry his voice got low and his demeanor lethal, but Sam…Sam got loud.

John spoke up. "Listen. I know that I deserve everything that you have to say to me but I just want to talk…"

"Talk!" Sam exploded. "You don't talk, you hit! You abused your son and now you wanna talk about it?"

Dean flinched at the word abuse even as he was moving in between the Sam and his father. He put a hand on his boyfriend's chest as he turned to look at his father. This was quickly getting out of hand and he knew how short his father's temper was. He didn't want, couldn't let John lash out at Sam.

"Dad, just go. We'll talk later, but just go now."

John nodded and left, but Dean didn't see him go, too busy focusing on Sam. Sam on the other hand watched John like a hawk.

As soon as John was gone though, Sam's ire turned on Dean. Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair, feeling so angry he didn't know what to do with himself.

"So what? You're just gonna let him beat you up again?"

"What? NO. I should have told you, but it's not like that…"

"How can you say that with his handprint on your face?" Sam took a deep breath, that whooshed out like a sob when he exhaled. "Listen Dean, I can't…I can't watch him do this to you again. I can't sit by your hospital bed again wondering if you're going to die…I can't."

By the end of his words, Sam was sobbing, tears slipping down his cheeks. When he looked at Dean he could tell the other boy was holding back tears as well.

"Sam…he's my dad."

"I know, but I can't…I'm sorry, I'll call you later."

Sam grabbed his shoes and rushed out the door, not even bothering to put them on. He couldn't bear to look at Dean, to see that agony in those green eyes, to see that bruise on Dean's face and remember the scent of blood thick in the air, the scent of cleaner in the hospital and the fear, that fear that clogged the back of his throat with the idea that Dean might never wake up.

Dean stared at the closed door of his dorm room. How could Sam have just left like that?

It wasn't like that again, it wasn't. Before Dean had had nothing, no one but John, no reason to defend himself. Certainly no one else to defend.

But now he had Sam. The first time he had stood up to his father, it was over Sam, and John had put Dean in the hospital. Did Sam think that now he was just going to let his father separate them?

Sam hadn't seen what had happened yesterday, hadn't even let Dean explain. He had yelled at his father, something he could barely believe he had done. Dean certainly didn't want to go back to before, didn't want to go back to hiding, to being alone.

But it didn't seem to matter what he wanted. Sam had walked away, couldn't deal with him, didn't want someone so fucked up. No one wanted someone useless, worthless, who couldn't defend himself, who let his father beat him because he was so pathetic.

Dean angrily wiped away the few tears that had leaked out. No point in crying over it. Sam would have left eventually anyway. Sam was a good kid who deserved more than him, Dean should never have gotten involved with the other teen in the first place. He had always been torn between wanting Sam to be with him and thinking that the other boy would be better off without him.

Collapsing on his bed, Dean curled into a fetal position. The sheets smelled of Sam and sex and Dean curled deeper into them. He felt the tears coming again, the sobs choking him, but he refused to let them out.

Breathing harshly, Dean tried to think. He didn't know what to do now. What was the point? What was the point of the game that night, or college, or anything. No one needed him, no one would miss him if he didn't get out of bed ever again.

He sat up. He couldn't stay in the bed or he really would never leave it. No, he got up and put on his running clothes. He needed to lose himself in exercise.

Sam didn't know where to go, but he knew he couldn't drive like this, with tears and snot streaming down his face, too worked up to breathe properly. Eventually, he just sat down in the grass in the shade of a tree.

Christ, he didn't know what to do. He had been serious, he couldn't simply watch Dean be beaten and know the cause of it, know that it didn't have to be that way. He didn't understand Dean, how could the other teen even stand to look at John? Why did Dean still love his father? How did a person love someone who hit them, someone who obviously didn't love in return?

Sam needed to talk to someone, someone who understood the situation in its entirety. Hesitantly, he took out his cell phone and called Bobby.

"'ello," was the greeting.

"Bobby?" Sam knew that he sounded wrecked and it was confirmed when Bobby's next words sounded anxious.

"Sam? What's wrong, boy?"

"Bobby, it's…" Sam took a minute to try and compose himself before he continued. He didn't want to worry the man over him over-reacting. "It's John. He's been by Dean's dorm…"

"Is Dean with you now?"

"No. We had…we had a fight. I'm on the UNC campus now, but I'm not with Dean."

Bobby's sigh sounded down the line, "Well, you better tell me what happened."

So Sam did. He told Bobby about his surprise and the bruise and Dean's lie and John's entrance and the fight that ensued.

"Ahh, son. Nobody wants to go through that again. But I don't think that you're giving Dean enough credit. He stood up for you to his father once before and received the beating of his life, I don't think that he'd let John just waltz back into his life and let the man tear you two apart.

But, I think Dean does need you to remind him that he has something to fight for. He needs you to be aware and looking for the signs. Dean needs to answer for his actions, to know that he can be responsible for his own future."

"But John could go psycho at any time."

"Sam, you can't just expect Dean to cut John out of his life. I know you don't understand it, but Dean loves his father and if you love Dean, you're going to have to accept that.

Course that doesn't mean that you let Dean be an idjit about the situation. Maybe they should have supervised visits…" Bobby trailed off, obviously thinking over possibilities in his head.

"Listen, Sam. I'm gonna head on down there. I should be there before dark. If I were you, I'd go apologize to Dean. I know that you were upset and needed time to think but I'm afraid that Dean probably feels abandoned. You need to explain how you feel when Dean gets hurt."

Sam thanked Bobby and hung up. He was beyond pleased that Bobby was on his way. Bobby was not only an all-around great guy who had always been there for Dean, he was an adult who wasn't afraid to stand up to John.

Now that Sam had a clearer head, he realized he shouldn't have just run away from Dean. He knew that Dean's biggest fear was abandonment and abandoned was exactly how Dean had to be feeling right then.

Bobby had been right. He needed to make it clear to Dean what he felt. Dean needed to understand that Sam wouldn't just stand by and watch what his boyfriend be beaten by his father. But Sam also needed to let Dean know that he would be there to support Dean in standing up to his father, and perhaps, help Dean re-establish a relationship with the man. A healthier relationship.

Feeling calmer, Sam put on his shoes and made his way back to Dean's dorm room.

Dean ran. He ran until he was exhausted, until he was beyond exhausted. He ran up hills and down hills, ran through underbrush and jumped over logs.

He knew that he should stop. He hadn't brought a watch but he could tell from the sun shining through the dense foliage that it was afternoon. His legs had turned to jello and muscle cramps, and despite that he hadn't eaten anything since the night previous, he was nauseous. He had only brought one bottle of water and it had run out long ago.

He knew that he should go back and get ready for the game, but he could still see Sam's face in his mind, so he ran on, climbing higher and higher up the current hill.

It was warm out, in the high fifties during the day in October even at this altitude, but Dean didn't seem to be sweating as much as normal, hadn't had to piss in hours either. As an athlete, Dean knew that he was dehydrated, knew that he shouldn't have let it go on this long.

Dean gasped as the muscle of his thigh spasmed. He almost collapsed on the ground as his leg literally seized, only barely managing to reach out and lean against a nearby tree trunk.

Dean squinted his eyes in pain, his breathing coming fast and hard. Aside from the fact that it felt like the worst charlie-horse in recorded history, muscle spasms were a very bad sign. He wondered whether he would even be able to make it back to the car.

Shrugging off those defeated feelings as well as the tree he had been leaning against, Dean started the walk back. Now that he had stopped it was difficult to get started moving again, his muscles crying out in protest, his mouth parched.

Dean didn't even attempt to step over the branch on the trail, shuffling his feet. The branch wasn't even big, less than an inch in diameter, but it tangled his left foot. Before he even knew what was happening, he was falling towards the hill's downward slope.

He tried to regain his balance, crossing his right leg over, but at the angle that he put his foot down on the hill, his ankle rolled. Dean swore that he heard a pop, but he couldn't be sure as he had immediately collapsed and begun rolling down the hill.

He couldn't be sure when he stopped either, because on the way down his head hit a rock and the last thing he saw was a blur of green grass.

Sam rushed back to Dean's dorm room. Now that he was feeling more in control of himself, he wanted to make sure that Dean was ok. He knew that Dean had to have felt as wrecked as he himself had and Sam was worried…and ashamed for running out.

He had expected to open the door and find Dean crying, or raging and throwing things. Sam certainly had not expected to open the door and find the room empty.

For a moment he just stood there, staring as if Dean were going to pop out of thin air in front of his eyes. But nothing happened.

First Sam called Dean's cell, unimpressed when it rang in the pocket of Dean's jeans, still lying on the floor from where they had been dropped the previous night.

Where would Dean have gone? Sam checked around the room, noticing that Dean's tennis shoes were gone, but not his football gear…and Dean's car keys. Sam couldn't find Dean's car keys.

Sam sprinted outside. He didn't exactly know why he was running, but since he had hung up with Bobby, Sam had felt a sense of urgency, a need to get to Dean and make things good between them again. Dean was fragile, and for once, Sam wanted to be Dean's hero, the protector.

Dean was always protecting Sam, from school bullies and homophobic townspeople and even from Sam himself. Dean was always there for Sam, listening to his minor problems with his own father.

Dean never had spoken to Sam about what John had done, what Dean had lived through. Sam decided right then that that was going to change…as soon as he got Dean back and begged forgiveness.

Sam searched all five floors of the parking deck for the Impala. He was certain it wasn't there. But where would Dean have gone? Sam was starting to feel like a broken record.

He realized then that he really had no idea where Dean would go. Dean hadn't spoken of any hangout places or any friends even…Dean really hadn't said much of anything lately. Their conversations had mostly revolved around Sam and his excitement over school, the people he met and the places he went.

He hadn't noticed. Dean had obviously been upset before last weekend, upset with more than his relationship with Sam. And he hadn't noticed.

Leaving the parking garage, Sam called Bobby back.

"'ello."

"Bobby, Dean's gone."

"What are you talking about, Dean's gone?"

"His car, he took his car somewhere."

"And you don't have a clue where?"

"No, Bobby, he never said anything, not where he likes to go or who he hangs out with…"

Bobby cut him off before Sam could really get started on a self-loathing rant. "Listen, Sam. Go back to his dorm room in case he comes back. I'll be there soon. Oh and eat something, I know how you are."

Sam frowned as the phone cut off. He did have a tendency not to eat when he was anxious but how could he eat with Dean missing? Still he picked up a sandwich on the way back to Dean's room.

Bobby arrived in the late afternoon. Sam had almost driven himself insane by then, eventually napping on sheets that smelled of Dean and the perfect night they had had.

At the sight of the older man in his pre-requisite trucker cap, Sam leapt up, enveloping Bobby in a desperate hug.

"Stop that. Everything's gonna be fine and panicking certainly isn't going to help."

Sam was just drawing back from the other man, wiping at his wet eyes with a hand for the millionth time that day, when he noticed someone else entering Dean's room.

"What are you doing here!" Sam screamed at John. "Where's Dean? Is he with you?"

Bobby curtailed his outburst with a firm hand on his shoulder, nodding to John to explain himself.

"I haven't seen Dean since this morning. He's not at the game so I decided to stop by again." John's voice was brusque, obviously annoyed by Sam's continued outbursts towards him.

Bobby could clearly see the tension on both faces. "Listen here you two. We need to focus on Dean. We find him and then you all can have your pissing match, got it? John, the boy's had a fight with you and Sam, so he's probably gone somewhere to lick his wounds."

Sam deflated, knowing that he was right while John simply gave another curt nod.

"So, Sam. You notice anything else missing?"

"Just his running shoes and his car."

"But no idea where he'd go, anyone he'd go to?"

Sam just shook his head, dejectedly.

"He'd go running."

Sam and Bobby stared at John, so surprised that the man had spoken that neither understood the words for a moment.

"He could just go running on campus. And it's been hours, the whole day practically." Sam knew that his voice sounded sullen and defiant but it was all he could do not to start screaming again.

"No, he'd want something more challenging, probably drive into the mountains around here."

At Bobby and Sam's still dumbfounded and disbelieving faces, John continued to elaborate. "When he would be upset, acting out or whatnot, I'd make him run. Tire the fight out of him on a secluded trail."

Both Bobby and Sam stared at John, realizing that this was an insight into John and Dean's relationship that both men had only seen from the outside before. Fortunately, Bobby realized that now wasn't the time to be horrified over John's parenting techniques.

"Ok," Bobby said. "Well then, Sam, you pull up some maps of the nearest trails to here and we'll let John see which ones he thinks are most likely. We need to hurry it'll be dark soon."

The three of them climbed into Bobby's car, an SUV fortunately, that the man had probably been working on from his salvage yard. John sat in the back. He had insisted stopping to get his own pack from the trunk of his car, taking more time that Sam felt that they didn't have. Who knew what shape Dean was in?

The drive was made in silence. Sam still couldn't believe that this was all based on John's insight into his son. Sam didn't want to acknowledge that John knew anything about Dean. How could John know what trails Dean would pick to run when he was upset, but the man couldn't see what his own actions were doing to his son?

And it made Sam furious that John would know something more than Sam. Sam who had found Dean when John had left the boy to die, Sam who had been there in the hospital when Dean had his almost breakdown, who had been there as Dean put his life back together without John.

Sam felt jealous and…ashamed. Ashamed that he didn't know what Dean did to relieve stress, ashamed that again he hadn't realized the stress that Dean was under. He had been oblivious, too caught up in his own life to realize that he didn't know all that much about the person he professed to love.

Eventually they arrived at the trails and searched each parking lot for Dean's car. When they found the Impala, Sam was practically out of Bobby's vehicle before it had stopped.

Sam didn't know what he expected to find, but there was no sign of Dean in it, no sign of whether Dean had meant to stay out all night or not.

John was entranced at the sight of the Impala. He hadn't realized that Bobby had fixed it up or that Dean now drove it. He was impressed at the state of it, shiny and perfect like Dean treasured it.

The Impala had been so much more than a car to John. It had been the first car he had bought, home from the war, in love and hoping to start a life and a family. He had proposed to Mary in that car and driven Dean home from the hospital in it. He could remember how happy she had been then, exhausted but ecstatic.

John was interrupted from his thoughts by the sounds of Bobby opening the back of his car. He shouldered his own pack and headed up the trail.

Sam watched Dean's father go with a frown. "Hey, where is he going?"

Bobby looked up from placing some extra water bottles in a pack. "Leave him be son. John was a Marine, served in Vietnam. If anyone can find Dean, it's John."

Sam still frowned, but let it go, focusing instead on Bobby who was closing the hatchback. "Here, I'll carry it."

It was Bobby's turn to frown. "I'm not that old," he protested, but handed the pack over as well as a flashback. Bobby was one of those people who were always prepared, like John apparently.

They began to walk, searching the trail and to each side with their flashlights searching for footprints or any sign that Dean was near.

The first thing that Dean was aware of was cold. He was freezing and attempted to reach down to pull the blankets up.

That was when he realized some other things. One was that he was not in his bed as his hand brushed against grass and leaves. But that was a passing thought as the movement sent pain and dizziness crashing through Dean's skull and he rolled to his side to vomit bile.

After dry-heaving, Dean rolled to his back and lay still. He remembered coming out here for a run after…after Sam had finally left him. He remembered the dehydration and the cramps but…

Now it was dark. It had been warm during the day, but not now. It probably wasn't below freezing, but Dean was only wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts. He was shivering in the cold night air.

Just the motion of the shivering was causing his head to pound harder. He lifted a hand to his face, feeling what he assumed to be wet and dried blood covering the right side. He knew how head wounds bled. He was more worried that he had apparently lost consciousness and had slight amnesia.

He knew he had to get up. If he stayed out here, he'd probably die of hypothermia, not to mention dehydration or being eaten by some wild animal.

Getting on his feet was not easy though, the slightest movement caused the pain in his head to increase and his nausea to return. By the time Dean had made it to his knees, he was vomiting again.

On his knees, Dean also discovered a new injury. His right foot was sending sharp signals of pain when he put weight on it. Still with a bit of maneuvering, Dean managed to get his left foot underneath him so that he could stand.

On his feet, though, Dean's head was swimming and he limped and stumbled into a nearby tree, grasping onto its rough bark to keep from falling.

"Fuck!" Dean couldn't help crying out his frustration to the empty night. Everything hurt. He was going to die out here because he couldn't overcome the pain.

Breathing deeply, Dean clung to the tree until his vision stopped swimming. Then he attempted to walk. His right foot could barely hold any of his weight and his head hung half way to his chest.

Slowly Dean made his way from tree to tree, following the trail that he had been running on. He was still shivering, still nauseous and dizzy, his legs still cramping, his head pounding worse than he had ever felt, and Dean was fairly sure his foot was broken.

And still Dean walked on. He concentrated on step after limping step, his hands constantly reaching out in front of him for the next tree.

After a while, it occurred to Dean that he totally looked like a zombie from a cheesy horror movie. Blood running down his bruised cheek, limping with his hands stretched out in front of him. He tried to laugh, but it turned into coughing which made his head feel worse.

Dean didn't know how long he kept walking, every step seemingly an insurmountable obstacle. Until the next step really was impossible. His legs buckled before he made it to the next tree, his injured foot caught beneath him.

He gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out. He couldn't possibly get back up. At this point he didn't care if he never got up. He was obviously going to die out here.

Per usual, his thoughts turned to Sam. He wished that he could see the other teen again. Even if Sam didn't want a relationship between them, Dean wished that he could see Sam happy, that he could see Sam graduate and get a great job. He wished that he could tell Sam how much last night had meant to him.

He thought about Bobby. Bobby didn't deserve any more loss. Bobby had always given so much to Dean, was willing to give a lot more that Dean never accepted. He wished that he could hug Bobby again, that he could tell the man how grateful he was.

Dean thought about his father. There was so much that Dean wished that he had said to his Dad. He wished that he had told John that he loved him no matter what. He wished that he had told his father how John had hurt him.

He wished that he had told his coach that he wouldn't be at the game. Chuckling lightly to himself, Dean began to crawl forward. His hands could barely feel the leaves and dirt beneath fingers.

He crawled literally until he passed out.

John could tell that Dean had run around the trail several times. He could tell where Dean started to give in to his exhaustion, shuffling his feet, stumbling a little. And he could definitely tell when Dean fell off the trail.

John carefully made his way down the hill, flicking his flashlight from left to right. In the dark he could trip over Dean.

He was determined to find Dean, to save his son. This was something he could do. He couldn't magically undo all the damage he had done to his son, didn't even know how to begin to rectify his relationship with Dean emotionally…but he did love his son. He had been terrible at showing it, but John would give his life for Dean.

Swinging his flashlight, there was definitely blood on the leaves half way down the hill. But Dean was definitely not there. At the bottom there was a mostly dried pool of it where presumably the teen had lain for a while, possibly unconscious.

But Dean hadn't stayed down, there were shuffling footprints and blood-stained tree trunks leading back toward the car. John almost smiled, proud of his son's resilience.

John hurried on. Eventually the shuffling steps stopped, but there was still no sign of his son. Instead there were signs of crawling, of Dean being so desperate that he had dragged himself along the ground.

It wasn't much beyond that that John actually found Dean. The teen was lying in a heap, the flashlight shining on the blood staining his son's body. John hurried over and knelt down.

"Dean?"

John carefully gathered his son in his arms, noticing that despite the desperation that Dean must have felt, there were no tear tracks in the dirt and blood on the teen's cheeks.

Tears formed in the older man's eyes, however, knowing exactly how Dean had acquired the ability not to cry. Certainly Dean had never cried no matter how difficult the training that John put him through, the boy had never cried when injured either on the field or by John's own hand.

But Dean had learned to hold in his tears long before then, right after Mary died in fact. Dean had been just a child, a little boy who wanted his mommy. Except that Dean's mother had died.

And John hadn't been able to stand the sound of his son's cries, of his son's grief. Grief that John himself had refused to let out. He had screamed at the child to be quiet, that boys didn't cry. It had been the first time that John had yelled at and belittled his son, the first time that he had expressed the grief that seemed to be choking him twenty-four hours a day. It quickly became the only way that John could let out that soul-consuming grief, in anger at his son.

"Dean," he tried again. This time frozen hands came up to grip weakly at John's wrists and Dean's long eyelashes began to flutter against his cheeks.

"Dad…Daddy?" Dean's voice was soft and raw, questioning and pleading. It pulled at whatever paternal heart-strings John had.

John swallowed. "Yeah, son, I'm here."

"Dad, I think…my foot…broken." Dean's throat was so dry that the words seemed to get stuck.

"Ok, son, I'm gonna get you out of here." In one swift movement, John swung Dean's limp weight over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Dean emitted a half-bitten off cry before falling silent again.

John didn't attempt to climb back up the hill to the trail, he simply kept walking the same direction that Dean had been crawling in.

"Hey Bobby! I found him!" He yelled out. "Meet at the car!"

Hearing John's shout, Sam took off immediately back down the trail, ignoring Bobby's 'now wait just a minute, boy, no use killing yerself too'.

Sam was waiting by the car by the time, John walked up with his son, and the barrage of questions started as soon as the elder man was in sight.

"Is he ok? Is he hurt? Is he awake?"

Fortunately, Bobby who was used to the larger teen's motor mouth, had just walked up.

"Now, Sam, calm down. We'll check him out."

Hurrying towards them, Bobby unlocked the car. When Sam opened the back door, John gestured for the other teen to climb in.

Carefully, John relinquished his hold on his son to Sam, tucking Dean's feet into the car before closing the door. Bobby was already in the driver's seat by the time John climbed into shotgun.

Sam cradled Dean's head in his lap, looking down on his boyfriend's blood and dirt covered face, Dean's blue lips.

"What happened?"

"Seems he fell off the trail, probably has a broken foot and a concussion, definitely hypothermia." John's voice was calm and detached sounding.

Sam nodded absently, beginning to rub Dean's exposed and scratched arms with his hands. How had this happened? Was Dean just that unlucky?

His un-asked question was answered as John spoke again. "He was exhausted and doubtless dehydrated when he fell."

Bobby chimed in then with his two cents. "Boy was trying to outrun himself."

As if reacting to their words about him, Dean began to shiver, violently.

"Bobby," Sam cried out, instinctively reaching out to the older man that had become a mentor to both teens. "He's shivering."

"It's a good sign." John spoke up again.

Not knowing whether to try and restrain the other teen or not, Sam just held Dean tighter against his chest. But it was like Dean's own movements had woken him. Dean's lashes fluttered against pale cheeks before the smaller teen tried to turn into the warmth.

Even that slight motion, however, caused his headache to intensify again and Dean moaned softly against Sam's t-shirt.

"It's ok, Dean. You're gonna be fine." Sam met Bobby's eyes in the rearview mirror as the man looked back at Dean.

Dean reacted to Sam's voice, fully opening his eyes in surprise and choking out, "Sammy…?"

Sam rubbed Dean's arm again in an attempt at reassurance. "Yeah, I'm here."

Dean felt very confused. Why was Sam here? All he kept thinking was that Sam had left. But Dean was fairly sure that he wasn't hallucinating, or if he were, he gladly welcomed it. Sam was there, warm against him, holding him again.

He wanted to say so many things, but he knew he couldn't. His hands only clenched tighter in Sam's shirt. Fortunately Sam seemed to understand, holding Dean tighter in response and whispering, "I know. Don't worry, I'm not leaving," into Dean's hair.

Dean relaxed a little, until another thought popped into his mind. "Bobby?" He choked out.

Bobby smiled, Sam could see it in the mirror. "Yeah, son, I'm here too."

After that, Dean settled down considerably as if now that he knew that he had his makeshift family around him, he could finally relax his guard a little.

Sam was struck then by how true that probably was, how that had probably been a large part of why Dean had been so upset at college. The other teen had been feeling upset and needy being away from them, but hadn't known how to ask for what he needed.

Soon they pulled up at an Emergency Department and John was again, helping lift a still shivering Dean out of the car. Sam carried Dean's upper body while John carried Dean's legs.

Within moments Dean was being wheeled away again.

And again, Sam and Bobby were sitting by a hospital bed waiting for Dean to wake up. Fortunately, this time they weren't going to have such a long wait. It was only painkillers keeping the other teen asleep.

John had been right about the injuries that Dean had sustained: dehydration, hypothermia, a concussion. Dean had already had the tests showing that he hadn't bruised his brain and an x-ray showing that Dean had broken his heel bone when he had fallen.

Yep, the only lasting physical consequence of this misadventure would be a moon-boot cast and crutches for six weeks.

But this time, Sam wasn't going to ignore the emotional consequences. Dean had obviously been upset to almost run himself into the ground…and John had left again, obviously unable to handle the emotional fall-out.

Sam was less bitter about that than he would have thought he'd be. In some way, John did love his son and Sam knew that without the man, they would not have found Dean in time.

When Dean woke this time, he was less surprised to see them. But it seemed like none of them knew how to begin the conversation. Bobby asked how Dean was feeling, gave the teen some water to drink, told Dean about the cast…

And then Sam blurted out, "Dean we have to talk about this."

Dean was quiet but he nodded either his agreement or his acquiescence.

"John left."

Sam didn't know why that was the first thing that he said. He just felt like getting it out of the way, he guessed.

Dean nodded, looking at Bobby before answering in a gruff voice. "I know."

"Well, how do you feel about that? You can't keep it all bottled up this time, Dean." Sam knew that his voice was becoming more and more petulant and whiny.

"I'm…ok this time. He has his own problems to work out."

But Sam wasn't satisfied by that answer.

"Dean, I know…I know I haven't been the best boyfriend." Sam shushed Dean's attempts to interrupt on Sam's behalf. "Things have been hard for you and I didn't…" Sam choked back his own tears, "I didn't see that you needed me. I was oblivious to your pain and I didn't…insist that you talk about it, that you deal with it. But I'm done with pretending that everything is fine and I want you to be done too. Dean, running like that wasn't a healthy response. I think that you should see a counselor."

Sam felt the silence after his last statement like a physical entity. Dean wasn't the sharing and caring kind of guy as the other teen said and Dean might take offense at the suggestion, assume Sam was suggesting that Dean was weak.

Sam looked over to Bobby to support and the older man nodded, feeling for once that Sam was handling the situation responsibly, neither shirking his own responsibility nor trying to blame Dean.

To both of their everlasting surprise, Dean said, "Ok."

Picking at the blanket covering him nervously, Dean kept speaking. "I don't…I don't want to lose you, either of you. I know I don't handle things well and I don't want to be like my Dad."

Dean gave a half grimace, half smile at the thought. "When I was…I thought…" Dean's voice was full of choked tears and for once they actually did roll down his cheeks, the sight loosening a kind of pressure in Sam's chest even as sobs rose in his own throat.

They all knew that Dean had thought that he was going to die, crawling in a desperate effort to save himself. "There was so much I wanted to say to the both of you, so much that I wanted to say thank you for."

The tears were rolling in earnest then and Bobby leaned down and took Dean's face in his rough hands. Two calloused thumbs brushed away the tears and then Bobby was looking directly into green eyes bright with sorrow and need and hope and fear in them, long eyelashes clumping into starpoints, the boy seemingly holding his breath as he waited for the older man to speak.

And when Bobby did speak, it was with quiet conviction. He was a man of few words, because Bobby didn't waste them. He said, "Family doesn't end with blood, boy."

Dean seemed startled, mulled over the words in his head, before he was nodding, the tears beginning to fall again.

Bobby sat down on the bed and pulled Dean's head to his shoulder, the teen's tears dampening his shirt.

Dean felt like a little kid again, that he was again that little boy who had yearned for his father to hold him as he cried, a kid who had been looking for his family only to realize they were right in front of his face and all he had to do was reach out.

They had all learned a lesson. Dean went to see a counselor once a week at the college. Sam made time for his boyfriend and didn't let Dean push him away.

Bobby and Dean had spoken to the football coach and explained what had happened. Dean didn't lose his scholarship and would hopefully start the next year.

Things weren't perfect but they were working on it.


End file.
